Sounds Like Love
by dalex.allen
Summary: Derek meets Stiles in English class. Stiles is deaf. Rated for content and language. **Edited due to critiques of the storyline.**


Derek wasn't looking forward to English this quarter. He always hated English, Shakespeare especially, but he needed this class to graduate. So, despite not wanting anything to do with the dead wordsmith, he went to Introduction to Shakespeare on time anyway. He took a seat next to a scrawny guy with short hair who was pulling out a notebook while keeping an eye on a woman sitting near the whiteboard. But that woman wasn't the professor, Derek knew, because the professor was just coming into the room with a briefcase.

"Okay, class," the professor said, turning on the projector. "This is Introduction to Shakespeare, and if you're in the wrong class, you can leave now."

The woman at the front of class started moving her hands as soon as the professor opened his mouth. She was…signing. Sign language. The boy next to him was deaf. Derek had always been interested in sign language. It had always looked so beautiful when people signed to each other. He almost couldn't pay attention to his professor because his eyes were locked on the interpreter. The hour-long class flew by and Derek realized he hadn't taken any notes whatsoever. He sighed, packing his bag and starting to leave. He had to drop off something at the library but then went to the dining hall, where he saw the deaf boy sitting with another signing boy. He wanted so badly to approach them, but he didn't know what he would say and he didn't know how to sign. So he chose a table a few feet away and watched closely. The other signing boy was able to hear and talk, so maybe he was another interpreter? Not during lunch, though, since there's nothing to interpret.

After his other class of the day, Derek went back to his dorm and jumped on his computer. He had to learn some sign language, something that he could show off to the deaf boy. So he learned how to introduce himself and say "Nice to meet you," and practiced all night.

He didn't see the deaf boy again until their Shakespeare class the next day. After class, he followed him at a safe distance to the dining hall and watched him sit with the same hearing boy. Derek took a deep breath and approached them.

"Can I sit here?" he asked the hearing boy, who nodded. The deaf boy hit the table and moved his hands; the hearing boy interpreted. Derek sat down, looking the deaf boy in the eyes and signing what he'd learned. The deaf boy smiled and signed "Nice to meet you" back.

"That's all I know," Derek said sheepishly. The hearing boy interpreted. "What are your names?"

"I'm Scott," the hearing boy said, "and this is Stiles. He's really glad you learned some sign. Usually people don't take the time to learn and just use interpreters or friends. He's really appreciative."

"Cool. So how do you know sign language?"

Scott smiled. "My dad's deaf. I met Stiles last year at the orientation and we decided to room together this year. He wants to know if you have a name sign."

Derek frowned. "What's a name sign?"

"I guess not. It's a short way of identifying someone. Like, mine is this—" He held his hand in front of his face and pulled away while making a fist. "—because that's the sign for wolf and I like wolves and it ends in the S for Scott. Stiles' is this—" He tapped his fist against his temple. "—because he's in his head a lot."

"Oh. Interesting. I've never heard of that before." Derek looked from Stiles to Scott, not sure which person to speak to. "Where do you two live?"

"Buchanan Towers. Fifth floor."

"That's the quiet floor, right? Isn't that a bit…pointless?"

Stiles laughed and signed something. Scott interpreted: "It's more for Scott's benefit than mine. And so it doesn't freak out the people around us that we're so quiet."

"I'm sorry if this is offensive, but…who do I talk to when I want to say something?"

Stiles smiled and signed. Scott said: "If you're talking to me, you should look at me. I might not be looking back because Scott's signing, but I'll look at you when I sign. And when Scott's interpreting, he'll talk as if he's me, so he'll refer to himself in third person."

"Weird. This is all so new to me."

"That's okay. No one expects you to get a whole new culture in five minutes." That must have been Scott's thoughts, since Stiles didn't move his hands. "Where do you live?"

"Buchanan Towers, fourth floor. I could come up and visit some time. I'd love to learn more sign language."

Stiles signed. "I'd love to teach you. We should go to class, I'll see you around."

"Bye." The two boys walked away, leaving Derek with his heart in his throat. He'd been so nervous talking to Stiles. Was it talking to Stiles? Did it count as talking if the other person couldn't hear? There was so much to learn about deaf language and culture (like the fact that there was a culture) and it all seemed so overwhelming. After lunch, he went to the library and looked at the school's catalog; they did not offer sign language classes. There was a club, however, the president of which he emailed for information. He'd been here a year and hadn't realized that deaf students even went here. Of course they did, Derek, they're just like regular people and want an education just like regular people.

After dinner, he went up to the fifth floor and glanced at each of the doors for Scott and Stiles' names. He found it in the middle of the hall: Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski. The other two names were Jackson Whittemore and Isaac Lahey. Derek had never heard of them, but that didn't surprise him; the school had 15,000 students, after all, and he'd only been here for a year after transferring from community college. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

"Just a sec!" That was Scott's voice, which was a relief. He'd been afraid of them not being here. Then Scott opened the door. "Derek, hi!"

"I just…got back from dinner and thought I'd…drop by." Fuck, he was nervous.

"Yeah, no, it's totally chill. Come on in." Scott stepped aside to let Derek in. The rooms looked basically the same, although one of the four boys in this suite had brought a microwave and toaster for the small kitchen. "We're this room, right near the door." That made sense; if it was just Stiles in the room, he'd be able to see if someone was there.

"Whoa," Derek said when he stepped into Scott and Stiles' bedroom. There were Batman and Call of Duty posters, World of Warcraft and Skyrim maps, and an Avengers calendar. "Holy shit."

"Like our room?" Scott was signing now, since Stiles was sitting in his desk chair, smiling slightly.

"Shit, sorry, hi Stiles. I didn't…there's just so much cool stuff in here."

Stiles smiled wider. "Yeah, most of it is mine; Scott's kind of a recluse."

Derek nodded, looking around the room some more. The beds had been debunked, one on each side of the room. He could figure out pretty quickly whose bed was whose; Stiles' not only had Iron Man pillows, but also a weird device right next to them.

"Ah, that's his alarm," Scott said. He must've been watching Derek. "It vibrates his pillow to wake him up in the mornings. I told him he had to get it because I wasn't waking up as early as he was."

Stiles punched him playfully and signed something.

"Okay, okay, he says I was lying, which I was. He's had those things for, like, ten years."

"Is that…standard?" Derek asked, still not used to looking at someone who wouldn't be speaking.

"For a cop's kid, yeah. Dad would sometimes get called out in the middle of the night and not be back in time to wake me. The whole sheriff's department pitched in for my first one. Dad cried when he got it."

Derek nodded, hovering awkwardly over Scott's bed (which had plain green sheets, no superheroes).

"Oh, fuck, where are our manners?" Scott said, hitting his head before interpreting. "Dude, take my chair. I need to get away from that computer anyway. Too much homework."

He smiled and sat in Scott's desk chair, glancing at the computer that was certainly more than five years old. On Scott's desk were pictures of him and a middle-aged woman who was probably his mother. She was pretty: dark, curly hair, smiling eyes. There was also a class schedule, a small Playboy desk calendar, and textbooks.

"So what's going on in Derek-land?" Scott asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

Derek shrugged. "I didn't want to do my homework so I came up here to bother you guys."

Stiles laughed. It was weird; not the laugh, that was normal, but weird coming from Stiles' mouth. Something must've showed in his face, because Stiles' smile faded.

"Dude, no, I didn't mean…" Derek stumbled on his words as he tried to explain. "I'm just…not used to hearing stuff coming from your mouth. I'm sorry. Really, really sorry."

"It's fine," Scott said, without any prompting from Stiles. He wasn't even signing anymore. "He's used to it. It's just a little jarring, you know? I know it's not your fault and not your intention but—"

Stiles walked across the room and hit Scott on the shoulder quite a bit harder than was necessary (in Derek's opinion). Scott looked up at him, and they started having an argument in sign language. Occasionally, little noises (grunts and things) would come out of Stiles' mouth, as if he wasn't in control of his voice box and didn't realize he was making any noise. Which was totally true, of course. God, there was a lot he needed to learn.

"Okay, okay, Stiles is making me apologize," Scott said finally, after about two minutes of rapid hand-movements. "I spoke for him and didn't interpret and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry. But it is still fine, what happened before."

"Stiles, I…" Derek was looking at the ground, even though he probably shouldn't. "I've never been around deaf people before and I don't know what's okay and what's rude and I'm sorry in advance if I do anything that pisses you off or hurts you."

Stiles kicked Derek's foot lightly; he looked up. "It's okay," he said. Derek's eyes widened despite his inner monologue begging them not to. That had been Stiles' voice, not Scott's. It sounded weird, like all those TV shows of deaf people speaking, but it was…endearing.

"He doesn't use his voice usually," Scott said quietly. Derek's eyes flicked between the two of them. "He hates that people expect him to talk. He hates that he was forced into an oral school. He hates that he doesn't sound normal. He just hates it."

Stiles licked his lips and went back to his chair. He had his back turned to them now, probably doing homework.

"Does he…hate being deaf?" Derek asked, hoping it wasn't incredibly rude to talk about him like he wasn't there.

"No, of course not. He doesn't know anything else. He just hates the second-class treatment he gets for it." Scott sounded…sad. Remorseful. Something Derek couldn't quite place.

"I should…go," he said, standing up. Stiles whipped around, looking confused. "Um…I'm gonna go to my room," he said, enunciating and motioning through the floor.

Stiles shook his head and nodded to his computer. Then he pressed his right forefinger to the center of his left palm and extended it to Derek.

"He wants to show you something," Scott said, jumping off the bed and moving closer to his roommate. "That's the sign for 'to show.'"

Derek stepped closer, looking at the webpage Stiles had up. It was called Signing Savvy, and it looked really new-age. Stiles hit the desk; Derek looked at him. He hadn't been this close to Stiles before, and noticed some things he hadn't, like his freckles and moles, and his deep brown eyes, and his almost intoxicating smell. Wow, okay Derek, ease up the gay there. He wasn't gay…was he?

Stiles was signing something. He pointed at Derek, then put his right hand on his left like a spider and lifted it to his forehead. Derek frowned; Stiles motioned to the screen.

"Learn?" Derek said. The page was open to 'learn' and that must be what Stiles wanted. "You want me to learn?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing a notecard and writing stuff down. Then he pointed to the notecard and at the 'sign in' button on the website.

"This is your sign-in information?"

Stiles nodded, smiling. He glanced at Scott and signed something.

"You can use more of the website if you're a member," Scott said.

Derek nodded, pocketing the notecard. "I'll do that, yeah. What should I learn?"

Stiles shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Derek smiled. So what if he had a full credit load? He'd definitely do this homework. "I really should get back to my dorm and do homework. I live in 412 downstairs, if you wanted to come by. See you later."

Stiles waved and turned back to his computer. Scott walked him back to the door, which was weird since all the suites were laid out the same, so Derek obviously knew his way around.

"I just wanted to…thank you," Scott said when they reached the hallway. "On his behalf. He's too proud to say it, but he doesn't…have a lot of friends. Not a lot of people take the time to learn his language and it's really sad to watch. So…thanks."

"Yeah, no, it's not a big deal. I've always loved the language, and what better excuse to learn it than befriending a deaf person?" He patted Scott on the shoulder and left, pulling out the notecard in the stairwell. "Really, Stiles?" he mumbled. The email address was ' .dude .' "Wow. Sounds like he made it in middle school."

He spent about two hours on that site, trying to learn as much as possible, at the expense of his other homework. When he finally made it to bed (after being told off by his roommate, Boyd), images of hands forming words filled his mind. How was he supposed to remember all of it?

* * *

They had Shakespeare the next day, and for the first time in his life, Derek was actually excited to go to class. He'd only retained a few of the signs he'd learned, one of them being Shakespeare's name, since that was the class they shared. He got there first, a few minutes before the interpreter. He wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to start the conversation. Hey, I'm Derek, I'm having a gay crisis about Stiles? But then Stiles walked in and made everything easier. He waved at Derek and smiled wide. Sitting down, he signed something at the interpreter.

"Derek, this is my interpreter, Lydia," the lady said. "This is my friend, Derek, who lives on the floor below me." She smiled at Derek. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. There's…there's something I wanted to show Stiles." He was blushing, he just knew it, and his hands were shaking slightly.

Stiles turned to look at him when Lydia finished interpreting, a huge smile on his face. God, this kid's smile was infectious.

Derek took a deep breath and signed his broken version of "We have Shakespeare together." Stiles started giggling slightly. Derek frowned.

"Sorry," Lydia interpreted as Stiles signed, still laughing. "You're new, I shouldn't make fun of you. But that was hilarious."

"Thanks, man," Derek said, hitting him in the arm playfully. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He hated admitting that his heart jumped when he touched Stiles. He hated it.

"What do you have after this?"

"I've got a math class until noon, but then I'm free for the rest of the day."

Stiles nodded, signing something at his interpreter and then turning back to Derek. He pointed at both of them, raised his hand to his mouth like he was eating a burger, and signed 'together.'

"We should eat together?" Derek asked hesitantly. Stiles nodded enthusiastically. "Okay. Here, put your number in my phone, I'll text you when my class is out."

After watching Lydia interpret, Stiles took the proffered phone and put in his number, then gave it back. Derek looked at his contact list; Stiles had put a smiley face next to his name. What the hell did that mean? Was it a friendly gesture? Flirting? Stiles had introduced Derek as his friend, and surely that meant this smiley was simply a platonic gesture. But what if it wasn't? What if Stiles was having the same feelings for Derek that Derek was for Stiles? Well, he obviously wasn't conflicted about it, if that was true. Was Stiles even gay? He couldn't be; he was into way too many video games and comic books. But that was perpetuating a stereotype, wasn't it?

He didn't pay attention in class again today. Dammit. He'd have to ask Stiles for help on tests. Was it wrong that he wanted to continue daydreaming in class so he could have more alone time with Stiles? Probably. But he didn't have a cute deaf boy in his math class, so he had to pay attention then.

When math was finally out (it was only an hour but let's be honest, it's the most boring hour of his day), he anxiously pulled out his phone and texted Stiles: "It's Derek. Class out. Meet in front of dining hall?" Stiles texted back about a minute later. "Okay (: Scott's joining, that OK?"

"Oh, jeez," Derek said, heart jumping again. If Stiles thought he had to ask permission for another person to come along, did that mean he thought it was a date? But it wasn't a date, anyone could see that, they were eating at the dining hall, for Pete's sake. Not exactly a romantic place. "Sure, it's fine," he texted back, hurrying to the dining hall.

Stiles and Scott were near the door, laughing and signing. And there it was, the crushing realization that Derek would never be as good at sign language as Scott, who'd grown up with it. He'd never be able to have a full conversation with Stiles without it being awkward and slow. He'd never be as good a friend as Scott was. He stopped walking, just staring at them. They didn't notice yet, which gave him time to think. Was he even going to bother with this? It'd be learning a whole new language and culture and for what? For one guy? Was Stiles really worth all that? Worth the trouble and time it'd take?

"Fuck it," he mumbled, pulling out his phone and texting Stiles: "Can't make it to lunch, forgot I had a lot of homework. See you later." Standing behind a tree, he watched Stiles pull out his phone, frown, and sign something at Scott. They both shrugged and got in line for the dining hall. He waited until they were inside before heading back to the dorm. He took the scenic route.

* * *

There was a knock on his door that night after dinner. Seeing as he was closest to the door, Derek got up to answer. It was Scott.

"You okay, dude?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Why?" He'd managed to forget about the incident today, through the use of video games and ice cream. God, he was a walking rom-com, wasn't he? Eating ice cream to get over a guy. He was pathetic.

"Stiles said you bailed at lunch and your text was really…short. I dunno, it's hard to translate what he said." Scott sighed. "Can I come in?"

Derek nodded, letting Scott into the room. They sat on the couch.

"I am fine, Scott, I just had a lot of—"

"Homework, yeah. Stiles said. But I don't believe you." Scott fixed him with a glare. "I saw you watching us outside the dining hall, dude. I didn't say anything to Stiles because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."

Scott had seen him, oh Christ, that was bad. He thought he'd been sneaky, but Derek supposed growing up with a deaf family member made one hyper-aware of surroundings.

"Look, a lot of people are weirded out by deaf people, and a lot of people can be bags of dicks—"

"Whoa, Scott, where's this coming from? I'm not…it's not that. That's not why I left." He sighed, leaning back on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. "That's the opposite of why I left. I'm not freaked out by him or his deafness. I'm just…I don't know the right term. Intimidated."

Scott frowned. "Intimidated? By what?"

Derek shrugged. "I can't explain it. Just…I saw you guys signing and I realized I'll never be as good as you at sign language and so all my conversations with Stiles will be slow and awkward and I don't need another reason to be inadequate."

Well, most of that wasn't supposed to come out. It was mostly inner monologue, the stuff about being inadequate. He always tried so hard and it just failed. His parents preferred his older brother, he didn't get into his preferred college, he'd lost touch with all of his high school friends, and he was very close to being kicked out because he didn't see the point of school sometimes. He only barely scraped up the 2.0 GPA minimum most terms.

"Dude," Scott said after a minute. "That's some serious shit going on that has nothing to do with Stiles. He likes you, okay? He thinks you're cool and wants to be your friend. And he just thinks you're freaked by his deafness."

"I'm not!"

"Tell that to him. Don't talk about that other stuff, though. Being comforting isn't his forte. Just…say you feel overwhelmed by the language. He'll get that."

"Scott…" Derek wanted to tell him about his hidden feelings, but he couldn't, he just couldn't find the words. What would he say? I've got a man-crush on your best friend? "I just…thanks."

"Yeah, dude, no problem. Happy to help." Scott stood up and walked towards the door.

When he was gone, Derek pulled out his phone, texting Stiles: "Sorry about lunch, dude. I'm not freaked by you being deaf. I'm just overwhelmed by all the signs I've got to learn." Stiles texted him back very quickly: "No problem, Derek. It is scary, especially for someone new. You'll get the hang of it (: see you tomorrow."

* * *

By November, Derek knew enough sign language to hold a basic conversation with Stiles. He picked it up quickly. He'd always had a problem with other spoken languages because every word had a different word in the other language, and the sentences were weird. But sign language was different; lots of words translated as the same sign, just with different facial expressions. And sentence structure only mattered when you were more fluent. So he could sign how he thought the sentence went, and Stiles would correct him, but it was never a big deal like it was in high school Spanish. If he didn't know a sign, he could just spell it out with the alphabet and Stiles would show him.

And then it was time to leave for Thanksgiving break, except Derek wasn't leaving because he didn't want to be around his family. They wouldn't miss him.

"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" Stiles signed as they walked to lunch the day before break started. Derek shook his head. Stiles grabbed his arm to stop him. "Why?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "My family doesn't like me," he signed, hoping that was correct in the language.

Stiles looked incredibly angry. "Let's find Scott," he signed, grabbing Derek's elbow and dragging him to the dining hall. Scott's class ended twenty minutes before theirs, so he was always in the dining hall first. When they got inside, they found him at the usual table, a backpack and coat saving two seats. Stiles didn't even let Derek get food first; he marched them straight over to Scott and started signing furiously.

"Okay, dude," Scott said when Stiles' hands stilled. "Stiles says the three of us need to talk because you're still learning but the subject is too complicated. So sit down."

"Can't I get something to eat?" Derek said, signing 'eat' so Stiles could understand.

Stiles sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded. Derek grabbed some pasta and pizza and returned to the table, where Stiles still didn't have food.

"Dude, is he okay?" he asked Scott. Stiles saw his lips move and hit him, a little too hard. "Sorry," he signed. "I forgot." Stiles signed something really quickly; Derek frowned.

"He said, 'Lucky you,'" Scott said quietly.

"Why are you angry?" Derek signed.

Stiles signed, and Scott interpreted; "Because you don't have anywhere to go over Thanksgiving break and that's the saddest thing I've heard in a long time and I'm angry that your family treats you like that."

Derek felt his mouth drop open as he stared at Stiles, a strange feeling building in his chest. Yeah, he had a crush on Stiles, but this was different. This was proof that Stiles really cared about him. To be honest, it kind of made him want to cry. He closed his mouth, swallowed, blinked a few times, and looked down at the table. Still looking down, he signed, "Not your fault," to Stiles.

Stiles grabbed his arm and forced him to turn. Derek looked into Stiles' eyes.

"I know," Stiles said out loud, staring him down with a strange expression. "But I want to help."

Derek hated it when Stiles talked; not because he didn't like hearing his voice (he did, very much), but because he knew Stiles hated it. And they were in a public place now, a place where anyone could hear his obviously not-normal voice. It made that odd feeling in his chest swell again.

"How?" he signed, still in awe at Stiles' compassion.

"You come with me for Thanksgiving," Stiles signed. "Come to my house."

"No, dude, I can't—"

"You're coming to my house for Thanksgiving," Stiles signed, raising his eyebrows. "End of story."

Derek smiled slightly, a lump in his throat. "Um…thanks." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Derek's phone buzzed as he was finishing his packing for Thanksgiving break. It was from Stiles: "My dad's here. You ready?" He responded: "Almost done, just come down and get me." He hurriedly shoved a couple of shirts in his duffel bag to cover up his boxers. They were close friends, but Stiles really didn't need to know that he owned South Park boxers. And Green Lantern boxers.

Since the door to the suite was open, Stiles and his dad walked in and knocked on the doorjamb.

"Hey," Derek said, waving as he gathered some things to read and packed his various electronic devices. "I'm Derek, nice to meet you, sir." He offered his hand to Stiles' dad.

"Nice to meet you, Derek," he said, shaking the hand and signing simultaneously. "My name's John."

Derek nodded, zipping up the duffel bag. "I'm ready. How far away do you live?"

"Oh, just out in the county. Half an hour, tops."

They took the elevator downstairs and put their stuff in the back of John's green SUV. Stiles started to climb into the front seat, stared at Derek for a second, and climbed in the back seat. John signed at him to ask what he was doing.

"I want to chat with Derek," Stiles signed.

"How much sign does he know?"

Stiles shrugged. "Enough."

John glanced between them before nodding and getting behind the wheel. Derek was very aware of Stiles' proximity to him in the back seat. And that Stiles' father was probably just as good as Scott at sign language. Why did he have to get a crush on a deaf guy? It was so inconvenient.

"Since you're in the back," John said as the got on the freeway, "could you interpret for him as well as you can?"

Derek signed that with slightly shaky hands, then said, "Yes," and nodded. Stiles beamed at him and signed, "Thank you."

"So where do you live when you're not at school?" John said.

It took Derek a minute to interpret. "With my uncle in a town called Beacon Hills."

"You're kidding, right?" Stiles signed. "That's a few minutes away from us!"

Derek laughed nervously. Wow, how had that escaped his notice? The perfect guy was a town away and he'd been wallowing in self-pity for more than four years. And he just happened to go to the same school and live in the same building and have a class with said perfect guy. Derek didn't believe in God, but he was coming pretty close right now.

"Where does the rest of your family live?" John asked.

"Various places. I don't keep up with them anymore."

"Why not? If you don't mind me asking."

Derek sighed, rubbing his face. "We had a fight. A big fight. About five years ago."

"Oh, sorry," John said, glancing at him in the mirror. "Just forget about it."

Stiles was frowning, giving Derek a strange look. He honestly wished he'd stop; he was already uncomfortable because he had to talk about his family. And now Stiles was staring at him. It was especially weird that Stiles was staring at him, considering that the reason his family split apart was a girl that Derek had dated. Kate Argent. She was beautiful and sexy and intelligent and Derek had been fucking crazy about her. But she'd been emotionally abusive, and had used Derek's family money for her own pleasure.

And then she'd slept with Derek's older brother.

To be fair, Jake had never met Kate so he didn't know who she was. She approached him at a bar when he'd first flown home to visit. He lived in New York most of the time, but took a month off in the summer to visit them in California. Understandably, he thought she was gorgeous and took her to his car, where they had sex. And then they drove to the Hale house. No one was awake, so they had sex again.

Derek found them the next morning, naked and entangled in the covers. Kate hadn't even tried to make excuses for what had happened. She just said Jake was better in bed than Derek, and that she was breaking up with Derek to be with Jake.

Then Kate accused Derek of raping her.

It wasn't true, as anyone who knew Derek should've seen. He was head-over-heels for her, and he always asked for consent before doing anything. But almost no one believed him; innocent until proven guilty apparently didn't matter here.

The family was pretty evenly split. Derek's mom and dad believed Kate's story. Derek's sister Laura, younger brother Tony, and Uncle Peter all believed Derek. In the end, Laura moved out, Derek went to live with Peter, and Tony caved to agree with his parents.

Because Laura moved to Colorado, Derek would've only been visiting Peter over Thanksgiving break, which is why he didn't plan on going home. He lived with Peter; why did he need to visit when he's at school?

Stiles hit Derek in the shoulder; Derek looked up.

"What's up?" Stiles signed. "You're off in dreamland."

"Oh, sorry," Derek said. "Just…thinking. About my family."

Stiles frowned. "You should smile more. I like your smile."

Derek felt heat rise in his face. God, why was he so awkward? Why couldn't he just take a compliment? He liked other people's smiles, didn't mean he was attracted to them. That's what it was. Stiles just liked his smile platonically. Because why would Stiles like him back? He was awkward and his teeth were weird and he didn't know enough sign language and he had too much baggage.

The rest of the ride (about ten minutes) was tense and silent. When they got to Stiles' house, Stiles led Derek upstairs to his bedroom. There were more comic book posters here, but the bed had normal sheets. Derek dropped his duffel bag at the foot of the bed.

"Normally, Scott just shares a bed with me," Stiles signed. "But you don't have to. We have a blow-up bed too."

The thought of sharing a bed with Stiles excited him, far more than it should. But it probably wouldn't make a good impression if he accidentally nudged Stiles with his hard-on at night, so he signed that he wanted the blow-up bed instead. While waiting for Stiles to come back from the storage closet with it, Derek looked around the room. There was another one of the vibrating-pillow-alarms here, and a phone with an attached keyboard (that looked really old, by modern standards) that was connected to a lamp, and two lights by the door that had wires going to the ceiling. There was also (surprisingly) a TV, but Derek assumed Stiles used the closed captions.

Stiles came back with the bed and set it up with an automatic pump. While it was inflating, Derek wanted to know all about the stuff in the house.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the phone/lamp/keyboard setup.

"It's called TTY," Stiles signed. "It means teletype. It's basically like texting, but more old-school. My grandparents don't have cell phones so we have to have these. The lamp is so I can know when someone calls. It blinks on and off when we get a call."

"And those?" Derek pointed at the lights by the door.

"The top one is connected to the doorbell. The bottom one is connected to a buzzer in the dining room. It's a signal device so my dad can call me downstairs if he needs to."

The bed was fully inflated now, so Stiles turned off the pump and plugged the hole, testing that the bed wouldn't leak air.

"There are signals like that in every room of the house," Stiles signed as he pulled sheets from his closet. "Except the attic, which we don't use. Cost an arm and a leg to install, but it really helps, especially when I'm home alone."

Derek hadn't even considered the cost aspect. Jesus, that was a lot of rewiring and it wasn't normal stuff that everyone needed. Did insurance cover it? Probably not. Which meant John had paid for this stuff out of pocket. Unless Stiles' grandparents were rich, but even then, it's a lot of money.

Given that both his parents were lawyers, Derek never had to worry about money until he moved in with Peter. If any of his siblings had been deaf, installing this stuff wouldn't have been a problem. But Stiles said his dad was a police officer, and they don't get paid nearly as well as lawyers. So all this stuff must've been really hard to come by.

Derek waved at Stiles, who immediately looked up from where he was attempting to make the bed. "Were you born deaf?" he asked.

"No," Stiles signed. "I got meningitis when I was two years old and it wasn't caught early enough. I don't remember sound. Even though I haven't been deaf my whole life, it sure feels like it." He sat on his own bed, looking like he was lost in thought. "A lot of people say I'm missing out because I'm deaf, but…I don't see that. You don't miss something you never experienced. Like…do you miss being one year old?"

"I don't remember it," Derek said, shrugging.

"Exactly. I don't remember sound. I don't know what music sounds like but that doesn't bother me. Maybe if I'd gotten meningitis later, I'd miss sound. But I don't. The only thing is…" Stiles trailed off, blinking quickly. "Never mind. Forget it."

"Stiles," Derek said, sitting next to him. "What's up?"

Stiles sniffed. "I never got to hear my mom's last words."

Derek gulped. Scott had mentioned in passing that Stiles' mom had died about ten years ago. Stiles never talked about it. It was heartbreaking, the thought of it. Derek wasn't even on good terms with his mom and it upset him to think about her dying. From the sounds of it, Stiles and his mom had been close. Which made it that much more painful. Derek reached out and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezing slightly. Stiles looked up, a small smile on his lips, his eyes watering. Derek felt the almost overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss him, but this was probably not the time. Not only could John walk in at any moment, but they'd just discussed Stiles' dead mother. He's probably not in a kissing mood right now. So Derek smiled, got up, and finished putting the sheets on the inflatable bed.

When he finished, the bottom light blinked. Stiles got up and motioned for Derek to follow him. Down the stairs and through a hallway was the dining room, where John was setting out dinner plates.

"You like the house?" John asked, signing with one hand and laying silverware with the other.

"Yeah, it's great." What else was there to say? It was a house.

Dinner was lasagna with garlic bread and string beans. It was really delicious. John and Stiles talked (signed) but Derek didn't really have anything to say, and he was too nervous to try signing with a full mouth. So he sat and ate and watched, although he missed some of the signs because he looked at his plate or they were signing too fast.

After dinner, they watched Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving special, then John went to bed. Stiles and Derek were still awake, hanging out in his room.

"I want to show you something," Stiles signed, reaching for a picture frame. Handing it to Derek, he signed, "That's my mom."

Derek looked at the photograph. In it, he saw a younger John (with less gray hair) with his arm around a woman with long, dark hair that fell over her shoulders in waves. She was gorgeous. Stiles got a lot of her facial features: nose, chin, moles. At her feet was a young Stiles, who only reached her navel at that point. He was…fucking adorable. His hair was slightly longer, but he was basically just a miniature of the person standing beside Derek right now. Still gangly, still had a huge smile plastered on his face.

"I was seven when this was taken," Stiles signed, a smile on his lips but sadness in his eyes. "Three years before she died. About four months after this picture, they found the cancer."

Derek didn't know what to say. It seemed Stiles just wanted to tell this story, and interrupting him might be a bad idea. So he sat back and watched Stiles' hands.

"Breast cancer. They were able to beat it, but then there was cancer in her lungs too. And her colon. There was chemo therapy and radiation and tons of surgery. But then…" Stiles paused, wiping his eyes. "They found it in her pancreas. It's not…that kind is really hard to beat. She died a year later." He coughed. "Dad says her last words to me were 'I love you,' and I'm glad I could be there, but I wish I could've heard it. It's the only thing I want to hear."

There was nothing to say. Nothing Derek said would bring Stiles' mom back, nor would it allow him to hear.

"I'm sorry," Stiles signed, taking back the picture. "I shouldn't bother you with this."

"Dude, no," Derek said, putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "It's not bothering me. I like that you're honest and willing to talk to me."

Stiles chuckled. "Yeah, but it's not…a happy story."

"So? It's your story. And that makes it interesting."

Stiles stared into Derek's eyes for a minute. Derek again wanted to kiss him, wanted to stroke his face and cuddle him and fall asleep in his arms. Oh, God, that was cheesy. But it was true. He wanted all that and more. He wanted to give Stiles his hearing back, even though he wouldn't have talked to him unless he was deaf.

Stiles smiled and moved away, putting the picture back where it came from and digging in his drawers for something. He pulled out pajamas.

"I'm gonna change and go to bed, is that okay?" he asked.

"Dude, it's your room. If you want to sleep, we'll sleep." Derek pulled out his pajamas.

"Would it bother you to change here?" Stiles signed, taking off his shirt.

Derek inhaled sharply when he saw Stiles shirtless. Trying not to stare, he shrugged. "It's fine." He turned slightly and pulled off his own shirt, focusing on each individual movement so he wouldn't turn around and watch Stiles take off his pants. When they were both in their pajamas, Stiles turned on a table lamp and turned off the ceiling light. Derek got under the covers of the inflatable bed. "Good night," he signed.

"Good night." Stiles crawled under his covers.

Derek fell asleep to the sound of Stiles' breathing. He had a dream about kissing Stiles and holding his hand. He hadn't felt this way since Kate. He'd been sexually attracted to people but this…this was more. This was…bordering on love.

Which was a problem.

* * *

Since Stiles' family lived pretty far away, Thanksgiving consisted of Derek, Stiles, and John. They cooked all day, making the turkey and stuffing and two casseroles and rolls. John made a pumpkin pie from scratch. During the down time, they played board games or watched the Macy's parade.

And then it was dinner time, and John gave them both beers even though they were too young, and it was all so good and filling. Afterwards, still groaning from how full they were, they all collapsed onto couches and took naps for an hour or so.

Derek was the first to wake up. He groaned and stretched, sitting up to look around the room. John was snoring in his La-Z-Boy chair, a half-finished beer on the table beside him. Stiles was curled up on the couch, mouth hanging open, drooling slightly. He looked so peaceful and adorable. Derek wanted to take a picture but decided against it. That was probably the creepiest thing he could do.

John snorted and jerked awake. After rubbing his eyes and stretching, he caught Derek's eye.

"Oh, you're up," he said, taking a swig of his beer. "We'll wait for Stiles, then we can clean up."

"Is that just an excuse to put off cleaning up?" Derek said, smiling.

"You're too smart for your own good, kid." He chuckled. "God, can I be honest with you? Stiles hasn't shut up about you for weeks."

Derek's stomach did a funny flip and he felt himself blush. "What do you mean?"

"He's told me all about you. How you just approached them and signed something. Left an impression on him. He's…" John sighed. "He doesn't have a lot of friends. Not many people want to learn sign language, you see. Hell, even I didn't, not at first. His mom learned sign language and taught him that, and I sent him to an oral school. He's never quite forgiven me for that."

"You can't change the past, sir," Derek said. "I know that for a fact."

"Oh, please. You're, what, twenty? What the hell have you done that you regret?"

Derek sighed. "I'm twenty-one. And it's…the thing with my family. I was dating a girl and she…she was emotionally abusive and used me for my family money and then slept with my brother."

"Jesus," John said. He took another swig of beer. "How's that your fault, though?"

"Well, she also falsely accused me of rape."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah. My parents believed her, and my sister and uncle didn't. My parents blame me for splitting up my family and for..you know, raping Kate, which I didn't do."

John was silent, staring into space. Derek went back to staring at Stiles. After a few minutes, Stiles woke up, stretching on the couch and grunting slightly.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he signed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You looked so peaceful," John signed. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Come on. Let's go clean up the kitchen."

* * *

They went back to school on Saturday instead of Sunday since they wanted to beat the crowd of kids coming back from break. Scott wasn't back yet, so after they unpacked, they hung out in Stiles' room.

"I had a really great time," Derek said. "Thanks so much again for inviting me."

"No problem," Stiles signed, smiling widely. "It was my pleasure. Maybe I can go visit your place in Beacon Hills some time."

Derek shrugged. He was kind of ashamed of Peter's place. It was a roof over his head, and that was basically it. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen/dining room, and a living room. Not exactly the pinnacle of luxury.

"You never told me what happened with your family," Stiles signed, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

Derek stiffened. "Because it's not a happy story."

"I told you about my mom."

Derek thought about it for a second. "Yeah, you're right."

"I'm always right." Stiles grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Derek started signing the story. It was much slower than speaking it, because he had to stop and ask Stiles how to sign some things, so it took him about ten minutes to get through the whole thing. When he was done, Stiles didn't do anything for a few minutes. Then he got up and hugged Derek tightly. Derek froze, heart pounding. What was happening? Stiles was actually hugging him. He was touching him voluntarily. Derek relaxed slightly and hugged back, taking in Stiles' intoxicating scent and relishing in the heat of his scrawny body. And then Stiles had pulled back and was smiling at him before sitting back on his bed. Trying not to betray his disappointment that the hug was over, Derek sat in Scott's desk chair.

Before the lack of conversation got awkward, Scott came in with his duffel bag. He glanced between Stiles and Derek, his brow furrowing.

"Is everything okay?" he said, signing with his free hand.

"Yeah," Derek said. "I just…I should go. See you later." He waved and smiled at Stiles before rushing out of the room and down the stairs to his room. He collapsed on his bed, head in his hands. Why couldn't things just be easy, like in movies? Why couldn't Stiles confess his undying love for Derek and then they'd kiss and live happily ever after?

* * *

He didn't talk to Stiles again until the next time they had class. Even then, he kept the conversation minimal. When the professor dismissed them, he packed up as quickly as he could and basically ran to math class.

Why was he avoiding Stiles? Friends hugged. It wasn't a big deal. But he just couldn't look Stiles in the face. Because that hug had been purely platonic. Derek felt that. It was a hug between friends. There was nothing more. And that really hurt.

Not that he expected Stiles to like him back. Stiles was probably straight and even if he wasn't, why would he go for Derek? Someone who's got so much baggage and was so fucked up.

After math, he went straight back to the dorm. He wasn't hungry. He just sat at his computer, staring at his background picture because he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do. That wasn't true. He wanted to find Stiles, press him up against the nearest wall, and make out with him. But beyond that, there was nothing he wanted to do.

"Derek!"

Someone was pounding on the door to the suite and shouting his name. It sounded like Scott. Shaking slightly, Derek got up and answered the door.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Scott said loudly, fire in his eyes.

"What?" Derek asked, hoping Scott wouldn't kill him.

"Don't act all fucking innocent, you ass! I told you not to hurt him!"

Oh, no. He hurt Stiles. All the more reason to just fall off the face of the Earth right now. Derek sighed and stepped aside to let Scott in the room.

"Scott, this isn't what it looks like."

"Fuck you!"

"Scott, please, listen to me—"

"I fucking told you he doesn't have that many friends, didn't I? And you fucking do this?"

"Scott!" Derek shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to stop pacing. "Just fucking listen to me, okay?"

Scott huffed and folded his arms.

"Okay. So." Derek let him go and started pacing himself. "It's not that I don't like being around him, that's obviously not it. If you could see my brain when I'm around him, you'd know that's not it."

"Then what is it?" Scott asked, venom tainting his normally sweet voice.

"I don't…I can't say, Scott. I can't tell you."

Scott scoffed. "Yeah, okay, well then fuck you. Don't even bother coming up to the room anymore if you're gonna act like that." He turned on heel and started walking out.

"Scott, please—"

"Don't even talk to me, Derek."

"Scott, I like him, okay!"

Scott froze in the threshold. Slowly, he turned around to face Derek, confusion on his face. "What?"

"I have a crush on Stiles. I think…" Derek sighed. "I think I'm falling in love with him."

Scott seemed frozen in place, arms crossed, head tilted slightly to the side. He blinked, shaking his head. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. I just…wow. I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I."

They were both silent for a minute. Derek's heart was racing; Scott was the first person he'd told about his feelings for Stiles. Now that the secret was out, he felt slightly relieved. He didn't have to suffer in silence anymore. But Scott was Stiles' best friend. Would he tell? Not likely. Scott was trustworthy.

"Tell him," Scott said.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"No. Tell him. Trust me."

Derek stared at him. Tell Stiles? What the hell would that achieve? It'd ruin their friendship and make things unbearably awkward.

"Do it, okay?" Scott said, turning to leave again. "Soon. He needs to hear it." He left.

* * *

Derek didn't see Stiles in Shakespeare class the next day. Which worried him. Had he done that? Had his dickish behavior driven Stiles to skipping class? When the professor dismissed them, Derek pulled out his phone and texted Stiles: "Everything okay?"

He didn't get a response.

Stiles was a really good texter; he always responded within five minutes if he was able to access his phone. So he was skipping class and ignoring Derek's text messages. Great. He must be really pissed off.

On his way back to the dorm, he saw Stiles and Scott signing near the library. Stiles looked really upset. Actually…yep, he was crying. Fucking great, Derek. Good job.

Scott saw him and waved him over. Stiles quickly wiped his face and turned away.

"Dude, I'm gonna let you two talk," Scott said. "I want you to make up, okay?"

Stiles rolled his eyes; Derek nodded. After squeezing Stiles' shoulder, Scott walked away.

"I don't want to talk to you," Stiles signed, avoid direct eye contact. That was an extremely rude gesture in deaf culture, and Derek got the hint.

"Just listen, okay? Just…let me explain."

Stiles sighed, folded his arms, and nodded.

Derek took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for acting like a dick. You're probably the best friend I've ever had and it wasn't fair to treat you like that. So I'm sorry."

Stiles bit his lip. "Accepted. I'm still upset but…apology accepted."

"Stiles, I…" Derek was just staring at him, taking in the slightly red skin around his eyes, and feeling something stab his heart realizing that he made Stiles cry. Way to fuck up. "I think…Stiles, I think I'm falling in love with you."

Stiles' eyes widened slightly. He had such an expressive face and Derek could see the shock in the way his lips tightened and his nose flared. And then Stiles' eyes softened slightly, and the corners of his mouth lifted, and he stepped forward and kissed Derek.

In all his wildest dreams, kissing Stiles was nothing like this. His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss was needy and passionate, and Stiles' hands, the hands that could say so much, were on Derek's neck and shoulder. People were probably staring, since they were two guys making out in front of the library, but Derek didn't think about them. He only thought about Stiles, his lips and his hands and his tiny body pressed against Derek's. He's never kissed someone just to kiss them; sex has always been the final goal. But with Stiles, he just wanted to stay lip-locked for eternity.

When Stiles pulled back, he tugged Derek's bottom lip for a second and smirked. They were both breathing heavily, still close together, Stiles' face mere inches from Derek's.

"I love you," Stiles said, using his real voice, the voice he hated, the voice that reminded him of his disability.

Derek kissed him again, harder. Then he dropped his hand to Stiles' and entwined their fingers. "Come on," he said, signing with his free hand. "Let's go back to the dorm."

* * *

As much as Derek would've liked to, they didn't have sex when they got back. It was the middle of the day and people were in their rooms and wandering the halls and there was just no privacy. But they did cuddle on Stiles' bed for a few hours, dozing off slightly. Scott found them like that, making fake gagging sounds at the sight of their entangled bodies.

After finals, Derek packed his things and prepared to go back to Beacon Hills for the break, but Stiles had other plans.

"You're coming to my house for Christmas," he signed when Derek came up to say goodbye.

"What? No, I couldn't impose like that—"

"You're my boyfriend, yes?" Derek nodded. "Then it's not imposing. You're coming. End of story. Anyway," he continued, crossing the room to kiss Derek, "it's more private there. Maybe we can…you know."

Derek bit his lip, grinning. "Fuck, I love you." He kissed Stiles, who pulled him onto the bed, where Derek straddled him. Scott had already left, since he had really early finals, so there was really nothing stopping them from doing it right there on the Iron Man sheets. Except John walking in when Derek's hand was in Stiles' pants.

"Fuck," Derek said, jumping off the bed. Stiles readjusted his pants, blushing. Heat was rising in Derek's face too. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," John said, chuckling. "You're adults, you can do what you want. But anyway. You all packed?" The question was aimed at both of them.

"Sir, I'm not…" Derek hesitated, glancing at Stiles, who had a pitiful expression on his face. Damn those puppy eyes. "No, I'm not. But I will be soon. I'll be right back." He kissed Stiles quickly before heading downstairs.

Just as he was lugging his suitcase into the hallway, his phone rang. It was Peter.

"When am I coming to pick you up?" he asked.

"I'm, uh…I'm not coming home for Christmas."

Peter sighed. "Dammit, Derek, would you keep me in on your plans? Where are you staying?"

"With Stiles."

"And who's Stiles?"

Derek frowned. "Haven't you been on Facebook?"

"No, not in a long-ass time. What's going on?"

"Stiles is my boyfriend."

Peter was silent. "Boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

Peter sighed again. "Okay. Do your parents know?"

"No. They blocked me on Facebook."

"You might want to call them. I'll see you later." He hung up.

Confused, Derek dialed Laura's number. She picked up on the last ring before the voicemail message.

"What's up, baby bro?" she said.

"What's going on?"

Laura was silent for a minute. "Derek—"

"What's happening, Laura?"

"Jake and Kate broke up."

Derek blinked, leaning against the wall to stabilize himself. They broke up. That meant he could come back. Right? But if he could come back, why did Laura and Peter sound so serious?

"Laura," he said, silently cursing when he saw Stiles come down the hallway. "What else?"

"She said she was still in love with you and was going to your school to find you," Laura said quickly.

"What's up?" Stiles signed, but Derek waved him off.

"She said what?"

"That's why they broke up. She said she couldn't be with him because he reminded her of you. And then she got in a car and started driving. She said she wanted to get you back."

Derek pursed his lips and clenched his fists. That fucking bitch. First she breaks his heart, and then his brother's? Stiles was gesturing at him, his face full of concern and confusion.

"Not right now!" he signed angrily, turning his back to Stiles. "Laura," he said. "What does this mean?"

"It means you can never come home."

"Why not?"

"Because she's pregnant."

Derek's knees gave out and he fell to the ground, back still against the wall. Kate was pregnant. With Jake's child (hopefully). Which meant…she was giving up the father of her child for him.

"Oh, shit," Laura said. "I've gotta go. Mom's here."

"You're back home?"

Laura paused. "Yes. I moved back a few years ago."

"A few years?" Derek was shocked, almost beyond words. A few years. She'd been living at home and sticking up for Jake for years and never told him.

"Derek, they're both adults, they can do what they want—"

"Fuck you, Laura. I thought you'd always be on my side."

"Derek, please—"

"Fuck. You." He hung up, tossing his phone on the ground and covering his face with his hands. He felt Stiles' arms around him, hugging him tightly. He leaned into it, taking in the smell of Stiles' cologne and body wash, listening to Stiles' heart beat against his chest. After a few minutes, he pulled back, looking into his face.

"What happened?" Stiles signed.

"Kate's pregnant," Derek signed. "She dumped Jake. She's coming to find me. And Laura moved back home."

Stiles blinked. "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

Derek shrugged. He'd been so happy earlier, when he was packing to go home with Stiles, but now that was all ruined. Damn John for walking in on them. Derek wouldn't have answered his phone if he'd been having sex with Stiles. Then again, he probably wouldn't have been having sex with Stiles; they didn't have condoms or lube in the dorm.

"Do you still want to come to my house for Christmas?" Stiles signed.

Derek closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. "Yeah, I do. Come on." He stood up, grabbed his suitcase, and followed Stiles out to John's SUV.

Derek was quiet the whole way to Stiles' house. He just didn't have anything to say. Stiles sat in the front seat because Derek insisted on it, but he kept looking back and smiling to reassure Derek.

"What's up with you?" John asked as they got out of the car.

"Family stuff." Derek lugged his suitcase upstairs to Stiles' room, where he promptly fell on the bed with a heavy sigh. Stiles came in a moment later, crawling onto the bed and snuggling up next to Derek. They fell asleep like that.

* * *

Derek woke up to someone shaking him. Groaning slightly, he opened his eyes; Stiles was sitting above him, smiling.

"Dinner," Stiles signed, getting off the bed. "And you got a phone call while we were sleeping."

Derek's heart skipped a beat. Who would be calling him? He reached for his phone and saw that he had a voicemail. It was from Peter.

"Derek, answer your goddamn phone. Kate's here. Call back."

Derek cursed loudly, trying to dial Peter's number with shaking fingers. Stiles was staring at him, frowning.

"Derek, why the hell didn't you pick up?" Peter said when he answered.

"I was asleep."

"Well, you missed Kate. She came by looking for you."

"What happened?" Derek's heart was pounding. Kate had actually gone looking for him.

"I told her you went to stay with your boyfriend." Peter sounded venomous. "She flipped out and left. I'm going to eat now." He hung up without saying goodbye.

"What's up?" Stiles asked.

"Kate went to Peter's." He wanted to explain more, but his phone rang in his hand. He didn't recognize the number but picked up anyway. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Derek Hale?" It was a man's voice, and Derek heard the distinctive noises of a hospital in the background.

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Well, Mr. Hale, your girlfriend is here—"

"Girlfriend? You mean Kate?"

"Yes, Kate Argent. She had a car accident. She had this number as her emergency contact in her cell phone."

"Oh, my God," Derek whispered.

"She's alive, but unconscious. And I'm sorry, but we couldn't save the baby."

Derek's mouth fell open. "I'm…I think…Kate broke up with me five years ago, sir. I don't know why I'm still in her phone."

"Oh, she did?" The man on the other end sounded uncomfortable. "Can we have the number of someone closer to her?"

Derek recited Jake's number and hung up. Then he called Laura.

"What's up?" she said.

"Kate's been in a car accident. I told the hospital to call Jake. They said…" He sighed. "They said they couldn't save the baby."

"Oh, my God," Laura said quietly. "Jake!" Derek heard someone shout back. "Answer your phone when it rings! Derek," she said, lowering her voice, "thank you. For calling."

"She went to Peter's to look for me and then this happened, Laura. You know Mom and Dad are gonna blame me."

"I don't care. I'm glad you called. Gotta go." She hung up.

Stiles hit the door loudly, making Derek jump. He looked up.

"What the fuck is going on?" Stiles signed angrily.

"Kate just had a car accident and she lost the baby." He didn't look at Stiles' face. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Stiles huffed. "Don't you fucking blame this on me!"

"Stiles, if you had woken me up, none of this would've happened!" For the first time, he wasn't signing and talking at the same time. He was too angry, so he was just signing.

"Fuck you! It's not my fault your ex is crazy!"

"She is not crazy! She was looking for me and because of your mistake, she had a fucking miscarriage!"

Stiles' eyes flared. "Fuck you! It's not my fault, okay? It's no one's fault. It happened. I'm sorry that it happened but you can't blame me."

Derek took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Stiles was right; this was no one's fault. It just happened. It really sucked, majorly, but it wasn't Stiles' fault. Derek just worried about how his family would take this. They'd probably be angry that he didn't rush to her side and instead passed the buck to Jake.

"You're right," he signed, stepping forward and kissing Stiles. "I'm sorry."

"I love you," Stiles signed, sniffing slightly.

"I love you."

* * *

Derek didn't hear from any of his family or even the hospital for a few days, so he got into the swing of things at the Stilinski house. John had weird hours, so they'd often have the house to themselves for the whole day (or the whole night). They still didn't have sex; Stiles said he wanted it to be special. Which probably meant Christmas day or New Year's or something.

Or so Derek thought.

And then the shower incident happened.

Stiles had been in the shower for only a few minutes when his phone went off with a text from Scott. Derek brought the phone into the bathroom and flicked the lights to signal his entrance.

Stiles peeked out from behind the curtain. Seeing him all wet and soapy make Derek gasp slightly. "What?" Stiles signed.

"Text from Scott."

"What's it say?"

Derek looked down. "It says, 'Text back when you can, I've got good news.'"

Stiles smirked. "Probably about a girl." His eyes dropped from Derek's face to his chest, and then down to his crotch. Derek shifted uncomfortably, knowing Stiles could see his hard-on. "Want help with that?"

Derek gulped. "What do you mean?"

Stiles laughed and motioned that Derek should join him. "Come on. We can save water."

Derek put the phone down and started stripping, heart racing. They'd fooled around a couple times but this would be the first time they'd see each other completely naked. He felt his face burn as he stepped out of his boxers. Stiles smiled when he saw Derek's naked form, a slightly hungry look in his eyes. Derek climbed into the shower and took in Stiles' body. He was small, but muscular. And he wasn't small everywhere, if you catch the drift.

He didn't have much time to admire, because Stiles kissed him hard and pressed him into the wall. Kissing Stiles was normally glorious, but feeling his warm hands all over his body and his cock pressing against his thigh made Derek groan. Fuck, he was so hard and he wanted to come so badly, but he needed to taste Stiles first. So he flipped them around, pushed Stiles into the wall, and started kissing down his torso.

"This okay?" he signed as he neared Stiles' erection.

Stiles nodded fervently. Derek smirked and stroked Stiles a few times before licking him and taking the head in his mouth. Stiles shouted out and threw his head back. Derek sucked, flicking his tongue and taking him deeper in his mouth. The taste was weird. Not bad, but not the best taste in the world. But Stiles was moaning so much and it made Derek's dick throb, so he kept going, swallowing what leaked out (and actually enjoying it) for a few minutes before Stiles tapped on his head.

"I'm close," he signed, hands shaking.

Derek just smiled and continued sucking, hoping Stiles would get the hint. Stiles started panting harder, and then he shouted, "Fuck!" and came, spilling into Derek's mouth. The sound of Stiles' passion-riddled voice and the taste of his come filling Derek's mouth was too much, and Derek let out a choked groan as he came across Stiles' legs. He swallowed Stiles' load and sat back on his heels, panting.

"Jesus Christ," Stiles signed, joining Derek on the shower floor. The water still cascaded over their bodies as they kissed lazily.

"That was nice," Derek said sleepily.

Stiles laughed. "We just had sex and that's what you say?"

Derek frowned. "No, we didn't."

Staring for a second, Stiles stood up, his face falling. He washed off his legs and turned off the shower, moving around Derek to climb out.

"Stiles, don't," Derek said, standing up and stopping him. "What's wrong?"

Stiles shook his head and started to dry off, not looking at Derek. Whenever Derek would try to move in his line of sight, he'd look away or close his eyes. It was the deaf equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and yelling, "LA LA LA!" when you don't want to listen. Finally, Derek grabbed Stiles' shoulders and forced him to make eye contact.

"Talk to me, okay?"

"I can't," Stiles signed, his mouth a thin line.

Derek let him go and stepped back. Stiles never used his deafness as an argument before. He must be really pissed. But why? Because Derek said they didn't have sex?

"Derek, I consider what just happened…" Stiles trailed off, glancing in the shower. "That's sex to me."

Derek nodded. "Okay. Then we had sex. I just…I don't know. Sex has always been about the…the penetration, you know? At least for me."

Stiles looked down for a second in thought, then nodded. "Okay. Understood."

They got dressed and went back to Stiles' room, where Stiles texted Scott back. Derek didn't want to say anything; he was afraid of fucking up. After texting Scott for about twenty minutes, Stiles put aside his phone and stared across the room at Derek.

"What's up?" Stiles signed, his eyebrows scrunched in concern.

"Nothing."

"Don't do that. Talk to me."

Derek shrugged. "I just…that wasn't sex, Stiles, that just wasn't. That was me sucking you off. Sex is more…more special, more connected. That was just getting off. I want…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I want to make love."

Stiles pursed his lips and Derek could tell he was trying not to laugh. But then he got up and searched through his bedside table, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube.

"Do you want to?" he signed with his free hand.

Derek stared from the condom to Stiles' face and back. Did he want to? Right now? They definitely could, John wouldn't walk in on them since he was working all day. But did he really want to? He hadn't slept with anyone since Kate. He actually hadn't kissed anyone since Kate. And he did love Stiles, more than he's ever loved another human in his life. But was right now the right time?

"We don't have to," Stiles said, the hand holding the sex supplies lowering. "I was just suggesting."

Derek got up and strode over to Stiles, kissing him and steering him towards the bed. Stiles fell backwards, Derek following, and he tossed the condom and lube aside to tug at Derek's shirt. Sitting back on his heels, Derek yanked off his and Stiles' shirts, leaning down to lick and kiss Stiles' chest before working on his jeans. When Stiles was naked, Derek sucked him for a few minutes before getting up to take his own pants off. Stiles pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, rubbing their hard cocks together.

"I control the pace," Stiles signed, reaching for the condom and lube. "So it won't hurt as much."

Derek nodded as Stiles rolled the condom on him and squirted some lube, which he spread by stroking Derek. Then he positioned himself over Derek's cock and lowered slightly.

Stiles gasped loudly, face screwing up in pain or shock. Derek grabbed his hands as a comforting gesture.

"Maybe we should prepare you," he signed, pulling Stiles towards him and slipping a finger inside him. "That okay?"

Stiles pursed his lips and held up a finger, which Derek understood meant "wait." Then he took a deep breath and nodded. Derek moved his finger around slightly, trying not to scratch with his nails (he should've clipped them earlier). Then he slipped in another finger, which made Stiles clench around him and gasp again.

"Tell me if you need to stop," Derek signed, stroking Stiles' face with the hand not currently fingering him.

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes to relax slightly. Derek stroked his insides, scissoring his fingers, stretching him. He was so tight. Derek wasn't huge, not by a long shot; he was slightly larger than average with an emphasis on 'slightly.' But he wouldn't fit in Stiles without some preparation.

"More," Stiles signed, the pain leaving his face a bit. "I want more."

Derek chuckled and slid another finger inside. He was so tight and hot and the thought of his dick being buried in this kept him hard, even in the condom. Then Stiles was loose enough for a fourth finger, and then he told Derek he wanted it all, so Derek pulled his fingers out, lubed his dick up again, and watched Stiles lower himself on it.

"Fuck!" Stiles groaned. God, it was so hot to hear his real voice. It only came out when he was really turned on or really upset. But in this situation, it was the hottest thing in the universe.

Stiles slowly moved on Derek's cock, his tight heat engulfing him. Even through the condom, it was the most glorious feeling in the universe. When Derek bottomed out, Stiles paused, panting slightly.

"How's that?" Derek signed.

"Hurts but it's good."

"I love you."

Stiles leaned forward and kissed him, moving his hips a little. "I love you."

They moved together: Derek thrusting up and Stiles moving his hips from side to side. It was slow but the pace was delicious; it drew out the pleasure to unimaginable heights. The lube definitely helped, and soon Stiles was only gasping in pleasure and not from pain. He was even starting to get hard again.

"Do you want to flip over?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded fervently, licking his lips. They moved, Derek still inside Stiles so they wouldn't have to work up to where they were now. When they settled, Stiles on his back, Derek between his legs, Derek started to roll his hips forward.

"Fuck, that's good," Stiles signed, raising his legs slightly to allow a better angle. "Don't stop."

Derek kissed him, then bit and sucked his neck as he rolled his hips deeper and faster. Stiles was moaning continuously now, and it was so fucking hot. Derek started thrusting faster and faster and Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's shoulders and he couldn't hold back.

"Fuck!" Derek screamed as he thrust hard and started coming, his hips still rolling slightly as he filled the condom. After a moment to catch his breath, Derek pulled out and tugged off the condom, dropping it in Stiles' trash can before coming back to the bed and taking Stiles' cock in his mouth. It took less than two minutes for Stiles to moan and shoot down Derek's throat.

"Wow," Stiles signed, panting.

"It was nice," Derek signed, laughing. Stiles hit him playfully and kissed him. They both got up and got dressed; Stiles put away the lube while Derek cleaned up the sheets with a tissue.

"You hungry?" Derek asked.

Stiles laughed, biting his lip. "Not so much anymore."

"Don't make it dirty, I meant to ask if you want food."

Stiles laughed again. "Yeah, I do. Come on. I'll make spaghetti."

* * *

When John came home that night, they were passed out on the couch downstairs, the TV playing reruns of Friends, dirty plates on the coffee table, Stiles' legs draped over Derek's lap. The door closing woke Derek up.

"Morning, sunshine," John said, smiling as he leaned against the threshold.

"What time is it?" Derek asked, rubbing his eyes and trying not to move.

"Five in the evening."

"Fuck, seriously?" They'd started watching TV at noon.

"You two are cute, you know that?"

Derek blushed, pushing Stiles' legs off his lap. The movement woke him up.

"What's happening?" Stiles signed.

"Dinner time," John said, moving to the kitchen. "We're having spaghetti."

"We had that for lunch."

John came back to the living room. "Stiles Stilinski, I told you that spaghetti was for dinner today."

Stiles blushed slightly. "Dad, I'm sorry, I forgot. I was…distracted." He glanced at Derek but looked away quickly.

"Stiles, look at me!" John stamped his foot and Stiles quickly looked back up. "You know that was your mom's favorite. How could you forget?"

Stiles' face blanched; his mouth fell open. "Mom's birthday," he signed, his hands barely moving.

"Yeah, that's right. It's your mother's birthday. But no, let's not celebrate it or mourn it or whatever. No, let's have sex with our boyfriend that we've been dating for less than a month—"

"John, stop!" Derek said, standing up. "It's not like we planned it!"

"So you did have sex!"

Derek cursed, sitting back down. "Yes."

"Dad, I'm sorry." Stiles looked close to tears, and that made Derek clench his teeth in anger.

"I don't fucking care if you're sorry, Stiles! Every year we do this, we eat spaghetti for dinner on her birthday, every day for God knows how many years, and you fucking forget?"

"John—"

"Stay out of this, Derek!"

"Dad!" Stiles stood up, eyes flaring. "Don't yell at him!"

"Stiles, it's fine," Derek said, grabbing his elbow.

"It's not! You've done nothing wrong!"

"Stiles, you think this is about him?" John said. "He's got nothing to do this! That's the point! He's just a guy, and you're acting like he's the second coming of Christ! Since when is he more important than your mother?"

"He's not!"

"John, that's not fair!"

"Fuck off, Derek!"

"DAD!" Stiles shouted, his voice a lot louder than Derek was used to hearing. "STOP!"

John froze, his eyes widening. It was clear that he didn't hear Stiles' voice that much either.

"I love him, okay?" Stiles was still talking, still using the voice he hated, the voice he only knows how to use because John forced him into an oral school. "And Mom's dead. She's not coming back."

The room was silent for a minute. No one moved. Stiles was breathing heavily, his fists clenched. Derek was watching them both, his eyes flicking back and forth like a tennis match. He'd never seen Stiles this angry. Nor had he heard that many words come out of his mouth at once. It was actually kind of scary.

"I'm going for a drive," John said, grabbing his jacket and keys and storming out the door.

"FUCK!" Stiles shouted, collapsing on the couch. His bottom lip was trembling and a few tears fell down his cheeks.

"Stiles, babe," Derek said, pulling Stiles into a hug. He wrapped his arms around him, feeling the scrawny body shake as he started to cry. It was the most pitiful sound, Stiles' sobs, and it just broke Derek's heart into a million tiny pieces. They sat like that, Stiles sobbing into Derek's shirt, Derek stroking Stiles' hair and just holding him, for well over fifteen minutes. Derek wanted to tell Stiles it would all be okay, but he couldn't, because it wouldn't be. He couldn't lie.

When Stiles pulled back, Derek wiped his face carefully. "Okay?" he signed, his thumb brushing Stiles' cheek.

Stiles shook his head. "I forgot my mom's birthday."

"I know."

"No, you don't. It's the single most important day of the year. And I forgot."

"Stiles, please, don't beat yourself up."

Stiles got up and gathered the dirty dishes, bringing them to the kitchen and sticking them in the dishwasher. As he was closing it, John came back through the front door.

"Derek, can we have a minute?" he said, not looking either of them in the eye.

"Yeah, sure." Derek kissed Stiles' cheek and went upstairs, checking his phone when he got there. He had a text from Peter: "Call your sister." Cursing silently, Derek dialed Laura's number.

"What took you so long?" she said as a greeting.

"Something happened with Stiles, but it's okay now. What's up?"

"Stiles is your boyfriend, right?"

"Laura."

"I always had a feeling you were gay, and now it's—"

"Laura!"

"Right, sorry." She took a deep breath. "Kate's fine. She did lose the baby. Jake's…super pissed. At you. Because you didn't rush to her side like you were 'supposed to.'" Derek heard the air quotes in Laura's tone.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Dad wrote you out of the will."

Derek's knees gave out; he fell onto the bed. "You're fucking kidding me."

"No. They've all basically disowned you. I refused so I'm with Peter. Tony…" She sighed. "Tony was given the ultimatum of either caving or being kicked out. He had to cave. He's just a kid."

"Yeah," Derek said absentmindedly. The Hale family thought blood was thicker than water, and disowning someone was unheard-of. But he'd been disowned. His dad had written him out of the will.

"Still there?"

"It's a lot to take in, Laura."

"Derek, I want you to come to Peter's."

"No."

"Derek—"

"I've got a new family now, Laura. You moved back with Mom and Dad."

"Don't. That wasn't…it's not the same, Derek. Just come to Peter's."

"No, Laura. Bye." He hung up and turned off his phone. He didn't want them to call again. Laura was just as bad as them. She'd sold out and moved back home. And Peter…he was on their side, he had to be, why else would he be the meeting place?

"Derek?" John said, tapping on the door. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, where's Stiles?"

"Don't brush it off. He's fine. What's up with you?"

"My family disowned me."

John frowned. "Come on. Let's have a beer."

"Something stronger?" Derek said, getting up to follow John downstairs.

John glanced back at him. "Promise you're twenty-one?" Derek nodded. "Come on. Vodka it is."

* * *

Derek didn't notice the absence of Stiles until they were done with the half-bottle of vodka. He was drunk, but still able to form coherent thoughts.

"Where's Stiles?" he asked.

John sighed, downing half a glass in one gulp. "I don't know."

Derek dropped his glass; it shattered on the floor. "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"

"He does this when he's upset. He just goes off. Hard to find him cause we can't call. I can't call. His mom's dead now. Just me."

"John, where would he go?" Derek was already pulling on a jacket.

"Don't go out there, Derek, it's cold and getting dark." John was slurring his words. He'd had more of the alcohol than Derek.

"Fine. I'll find him myself." He grabbed a flashlight and his cell phone, leaving out the front door.

Holy shit, it was freezing. Derek took a deep breath and started down the street. The town wasn't big, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it was big enough to hide in. So he called Stiles' number first, realizing as he did that Stiles couldn't hear.

The call went to voicemail. After the tone, Derek spoke. "Stiles, babe, I don't even know if this thing converts voice to text, but if you get this, if you can understand this, please just text me or call me or something. Please. I love you." He hung up. Pocketing the phone, he kept moving. There was a park a few blocks down, and that's where Derek went first.

It was creepy, seeing the children's play equipment abandoned like it was. It was too cold and too late for them to be outside playing. He looked around, checking under and around and on top of all the equipment, but couldn't find Stiles. Sighing, he shone the flashlight around the area. There was a path into the woods about forty yards away. Shit.

"Okay," Derek said quietly, psyching himself up. "You can do this." He hated the woods, especially at night. Once when he was camping in the middle of the woods, a bear came and tore through their food supply. He'd been afraid of the woods ever since.

Making sure he had a good grip on the flashlight, he moved forward, biting his lip as he stepped into the darkness of the woods. The path was very well maintained, so he didn't have to worry about tripping. The flashlight's beam didn't reveal any scrawny deaf boys, so he moved farther in, heart racing. Every twig that snapped made him jump.

"He better be fucking grateful," Derek mumbled, ducking below a very low branch. "I swear to God."

His phone buzzed in his pocket; it was a text from Stiles: "I'm okay. Don't look for me. I need to be alone."

Derek rolled his eyes and replied: "Too late. Where are you?" He thought he heard the sound of a phone vibrating about thirty feet to his right, so he shone the light there. Sure enough, Stiles was sitting in the crook of a tree, shivering and wiping his face.

"Stiles!" Derek shouted, not caring that he couldn't hear. He rushed forward, yanking off his jacket and draping it over Stiles' shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Stiles signed, but his fingers seemed to have trouble bending.

"We're going home, right now." He helped Stiles to his feet and wrapped an arm around him. They slowly made their way back to the path. Stiles tripped on a root and fell to the ground. "Baby, shit, come on." Derek tried to help him up, but Stiles shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"I can't feel my legs."

Derek's heart skipped a beat. He panned the flashlight over Stiles' body; his fingers were turning white and lips were tinged blue.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Derek muttered, hands fumbling as he pulled out his phone. He was shaking, both from the cold and fear, but he managed to dial 911.

"What's your emergency?" the dispatcher said.

"My boyfriend, he's been out in the cold, he's…his fingers and his lips, they're blue."

"Where are you?"

Derek blanked. "Uh…the park. The big one. We're on the trail, only about a hundred feet in. Please hurry."

"I'm sending an ambulance. Stay where you are. Try to keep him warm. Do not let him lose consciousness. Do you want to stay on the line until they get there?"

"Um…yeah, sure, that's good. How do I keep him warm?"

"Can he talk?"

"No, he's deaf."

The dispatcher paused. "Is it Stiles?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sending his father, too."

"No, don't," Derek said, turning so Stiles couldn't read his lips. "His dad's drunk, I don't want him driving."

The dispatcher sighed. "Okay. Just get him to move, get the blood flowing."

Derek nodded, turning back to Stiles and smiling. "Can you move anything?" he signed.

Stiles took a deep breath and moved his arms.

"Good! Good. Keep doing that, okay? The blood needs to move."

Stiles nodded, moving his arms back and forth, flexing his fingers as best he could.

"Anything else?" Derek asked the dispatcher. He could hear sirens coming.

"Keep him awake. Keep him…not talking, but signing. Make him sign."

"Okay." He thought of something to say. "Stiles, guess what." Stiles frowned. "My family disowned me. My dad wrote me out of the will."

"No shit," Stiles signed, rolling his eyes. "Their loss."

"Yeah, exactly. Oh, please, baby, please be okay."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

The ambulance pulled up on the edge of the trail and a couple of EMTs jumped out with a stretcher. Derek waved them down, shining the flashlight around. They came over and wrapped a blanket around Stiles before helping him onto the stretcher.

"Are you coming?" the younger one asked.

"I, uh, yeah, definitely." Derek followed them, shivering slightly but not paying attention to that. It was warmer inside the ambulance.

"What happened?" the older EMT asked.

"He was upset so he went out for a walk and then…it was, like, an hour, and I went looking for him and found him like this. Just without the coat. That's mine."

They nodded, wrapping Stiles' hands in warm towels. Then they placed one over his nose, making sure he could still breathe, and one on his chin. Derek was wringing his hands, feeling so helpless and concerned and scared.

"Calm down," the older one said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Derek."

"And you're Stiles' boyfriend?"

"Yeah." Derek's heart swelled slightly at being identified like that.

"Okay. Why don't you sign some things to him, to calm him down? His heart rate is through the roof."

Derek nodded, leaning over so Stiles could see him. "Hey," he signed, a lump forming in his throat. "They're just warming you up, it'll all be okay. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you. I love you." Stiles' breathing slowed, and his heartbeat returned to normal. He couldn't sign, since his hands were wrapped in cloth, but Derek knew what he'd say.

"Okay, we're here," the driver said. The two EMTs opened the doors and wheeled Stiles into the hospital. Derek followed as far as the waiting room, but was told to wait there for now. He sighed, pacing the room, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Derek?" That was John. Derek whipped around and saw John walking towards him, still looking slightly drunk. "What happened?"

"Fuck you!" Derek shouted, not caring that people were staring. There were a few small children on the other side of the waiting room who jumped and started crying. "He was out there because of you and he could've died!"

"Derek, please, don't do this."

"Is it worth it? Huh? To be so fucking self-involved that you care more about remembering your wife's birthday than your son's life?"

Two security guards came forward. "Sir," one of them said, "we're gonna need you to stop yelling, or leave the premises."

Derek's eyes flicked back and forth between John and the guards. He wanted to kick and scream and break things because Stiles could've died and no one seems to care. But he couldn't, he had to stay here. So he just cried, just sat in a chair and bawled. John waved off the security guards and left for a few minutes, returning with two cups of coffee.

"Here," he said, setting one on the table next to Derek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me," Derek said, sniffling. "Tell your goddamn son."

John nodded, sipping the coffee. Derek took his and tasted it; it was bitter and slightly cold. But it was better than nothing, so he drank it.

"It's hard," John said, staring at the ground. "Being a single parent. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, what I did was terrible, but it's not easy, Derek. Not at all. I love him more than life itself. He's the reason I hang on."

"Then why let him leave?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought…if he wants to go, why stop him? If he hates me so fucking much—"

"John," a doctor said, coming towards them. Derek and John both stood up. "Stiles is fine. He's recovering. We'll need to keep him overnight to make sure his vitals are okay. Do you want to see him?"

John hesitated, glancing at Derek. "Yeah, I do. And then Derek can see him."

"Family only," the doctor said, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm the sheriff, Doc," John said threateningly. "You let Derek see my son."

"Rules are rules, John."

"Is it because we're gay?" Derek said, frowning.

The whole waiting room went silent and stared. The doctor blushed and tried to stammer out a response, but he was too flustered. "Fine, Derek can see him." He walked away.

"Holy shit," John said, chuckling. "That was brilliant."

"Always use homophobia as a weapon," Derek said, smirking. He knew they weren't discriminating, but if he made it look like that, then he'd get what he wanted.

"I'm gonna see him. I'll be back out soon."

Derek nodded and sat back in the chair as John walked away. As the waiting room became noisier, he realized that this is the biggest hospital in the area, and Kate was likely here too. If she was still in a hospital, that is. The accident had been a week ago. Surely she was out by now.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he approached the front desk.

"Hi, I was wondering if there's someone here named Kate Argent?" he asked.

"Hold on, let me look," the receptionist said. She typed a few things into her computer. "Yes, there is. Are you a relative?"

Derek hesitated. "No, no, I was just…she's a family friend."

"I can't tell you her room number unless you're family."

Derek nodded, glancing around to make sure John wasn't back yet. "She's my ex and she was in the accident looking for me and it'd make me feel so much better—"

"Are you Derek?" He nodded. The receptionist pursed her lips. "Her file says you're not allowed anywhere near her. I'm sorry. I would, but I don't want to lose my job."

Derek nodded. "I understand. Thanks." He walked back to the seat, grabbing a magazine to distract himself. He wasn't even allowed to see Kate. Why did he want to? She'd tortured him for a year and then cheated on him and destroyed his life. But he wanted that closure. And, damn him, he was still in love with her.

"Derek?"

Derek whipped his head up; his younger brother Tony was standing a few feet away, his eyes wide.

"Derek, I thought…" Tony glanced around the waiting room. "Mom and Dad are up with Kate, you shouldn't even be here."

"Stiles is sick," Derek said, standing up and taking a step towards his brother.

"Stiles…oh, right, your…friend."

"Boyfriend."

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "I should get upstairs. I'll see you around."

"Tony, wait." Derek took another step, not sure how to interact with Tony after five years of not speaking. "I wanted to…apologize. Our family situation sucks and you're so young."

"I'm eighteen."

"I know but that's young."

"Older than you were with Kate." There was a hint of anger in his voice.

"I know. And I'm sorry this happened." He stepped back and saw John coming back. "I need to see Stiles. Um…see you around."

Tony nodded and left; John approached with a frown on his face.

"Who was that?"

"My brother." Derek turned. "I'm gonna visit Stiles." He walked down the hall and quickly found Stiles' room. Inside, Stiles was wrapped in blankets with a steaming cup of water by his bed.

"Hi," he signed, smiling widely.

"How are you?" Derek signed, pulling up a chair.

Stiles shrugged. "I've been better. Thanks for…finding me."

"Babe, don't do that again, okay? Just…never do that again."

Stiles nodded. "I'm sorry. It was stupid. I was just…when I get upset, I go outside. It's just what I do. I've done it all my life. I wasn't thinking about how cold it was. I didn't think about a jacket or anything."

"Stiles, listen to me." Derek waited until Stiles was finished with a sip of the water before continuing. "I love you but if you do anything like that again, I swear to God, I will murder you."

Stiles chuckled. "Understood. I love you."

Derek smiled and leaned back in the chair. He looked out in the hallway for a second. Stiles waved him back.

"What's up?"

Derek shrugged. "Kate's here, that's all."

Stiles coughed a few times. "What?"

"Yeah, she's still here. I saw my brother, Tony, the younger one, I saw him in the waiting room. I'm not allowed to visit her."

"And what happened with my dad?" Derek frowned. "He said you guys had a fight."

"Yeah, because he's a fucking idiot for letting you go out like that and caring more about the goddamn birthday spaghetti than your life, and then he just fucking drinks all his problems away—"

"Wait, he was drinking?" Stiles pulled the blankets back and looked like he was about to stand up.

"Stiles, you sit your ass back down," Derek signed, blocking the doorway. "It's not a big deal, okay?"

"It's a big deal, Derek." Stiles pushed off the bed and tried to get around Derek. "Let me go."

"Stiles, what's wrong?"

"He hasn't touched a drink since my mom died."

Derek sighed but didn't move. "Stiles, please, just rest for now, okay? For me."

Stiles huffed and nodded, climbing back in his bed. "Sorry. I just feel really protective over him."

"I understand."

"Until I came to college, he was all I had."

"Stiles, just rest." Derek stepped forward and kissed Stiles' forehead before heading back to the waiting room. John was still sipping his coffee.

"I'm gonna stay with him tonight," John said when Derek sat next to him. "Do you want a ride back to the house?"

"No, I'm staying too."

"Derek, you need sleep. And you need to stay warm."

"John, I'm staying. Now where can I get warm coffee?"

* * *

Someone was shaking him. Derek grunted, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. John was in front of him with a steaming cup of coffee.

"What time is it?" Derek asked, taking the coffee and sipping some.

"Nine in the morning. Stiles just woke up, and he wanted to see you."

Derek stood up, stretched, and went to Stiles' room. The coffee was good, but too sweet. He wondered how much sugar John had put in. Stiles was sitting up on his bed, smiling and eating pancakes.

"Good morning, star shine," Derek signed. He was getting very good at signing one-handed. "The earth says hello."

"You're not Johnny Depp," Stiles signed, chuckling.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I guess. What about you?"

Derek shrugged, sitting in the chair by Stiles' bed. "Your dad said you wanted to see me. What's up?"

"I just wanted to see you."

They were quiet for about five minutes while Stiles ate and Derek drank his coffee. Stiles offered Derek some pancakes but he declined. He'd go to the cafeteria later. He wanted Stiles to eat as much as he could right now.

"I'm not angry at my dad anymore."

"Good."

"Pretty eventful day yesterday," Stiles said, laughing. "We lose our virginities, have a big fight, I almost die. I hope they're not all like this."

Derek frowned. "I lost my virginity six years ago."

"You did?" Stiles' face fell. "Oh. Okay."

"Stiles, it was still special to me. It was my first time with a guy. But I slept with Kate all those years ago."

"Yeah, well." Stiles looked at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. After a minute he sighed. "You were my first kiss."

Derek froze. Stiles was still looking at his hands, so Derek hit the bed to get his attention. "What?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find other gay guys?" Stiles signed, hands shaking slightly. "Especially when you can't even talk to them?"

"Stiles…"

"Just listen, okay? I've been deaf for as long as I can remember. It was really hard making friends until I met Scott. No one wanted to learn the language. I spent most of my time either in school or at home. I didn't do sports. I didn't do clubs. I didn't do Boy Scouts. I just sat around with my mom reading books and watching movies and doing homework. I got into our college with a full-ride scholarship because of my grades. I never got anything less than an A. After my mom died, I kept my grades up but I didn't have anyone to hang out with. My dad didn't want to be social. I mean, my mom had just died, you know? That's why I'm so into comic books and stuff. All the sounds were written out. Very deaf-friendly."

Stiles paused for some food and orange juice. Derek finished his coffee and put the cup on Stiles' tray. It was nice that Stiles was opening up like this. He really liked it.

"I realized that I was gay when I was about fifteen. I thought God, or someone, was trying to punish me. I'm deaf and my mom dies and now I'm gay? I just thought…it was awful. I told my dad about it and I was crying really hard but he said he'd always love me and that helped, but I just…I didn't want to live anymore. I thought…I mean, at the time it was a certainty, that I'd never find anyone who would love me. And then I met Scott and he was wonderful and he's my best friend besides you and…" Stiles sniffed, wiping his face. "Derek, why didn't you tell me?"

"Stiles…" Derek grabbed one of his hands. "I love you. I didn't tell you because I can't change the past. I can't undo what happened with Kate. Believe me, if I could, I would've done it a long time ago. But just because I slept with her doesn't mean I don't love you and it sure as hell doesn't mean it wasn't special. Okay?"

Stiles sighed but nodded. "I just…I don't know. It's not important. I'm freaking out about nothing."

"Stiles, don't do that."

Stiles was about to respond, but a doctor came in with a woman in a solid black shirt. An interpreter.

"Stiles, we're going to send you home today," the doctor said while the interpreter signed. "Your friend's going to have to leave while you change back into your street clothes."

"Boyfriend," Derek said defensively. "And I've seen him naked before."

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. Derek realized this was the same doctor he'd encountered last night.

"It's hospital policy, Derek," he said, not making eye contact. "Please just leave for a few minutes."

"Why?"

Stiles tapped Derek on the back; he turned. "Just go. Don't make a fuss."

Derek stared at him for a second before sighing. "Fine." He left, stopping at a vending machine to get a Coke and some candy. John was at the counter filling out some forms so Derek sat in a chair, sipping the Coke. He almost choked on it when he saw Kate.

She was in a hospital gown with a couple of IVs in her arms. She was clutching a walker and hobbling along the hallway with an attendant. She was pale, and thin, and looked broken. She hadn't seen him yet, so he sunk into the chair and watched her.

"Come on, Kate," the attendant said, one hand on her elbow. "Just a few more steps and then we can go back to your room."

Kate was shaking, her whole frame vibrating as she seemed to concentrate on the next step. Her face was screwed up in either pain or determination. But she couldn't move her legs.

Suddenly, the secretary jumped out of her chair and practically ran to Kate's attendant. She whispered something in his ear which made him tense and try to steer Kate away.

"Come on, Kate, we're going back to your room now."

"Why?" she said, frowning at him. The attendant stole a glance at Derek and Kate followed his gaze. When she saw him, her eyes widened, her shoulders dropped slightly, and her mouth dropped open. "Derek," she said quietly.

Derek jumped out of the chair and ran to Stiles' room, forgetting his Coke and candy in the chair. Stiles was in the bathroom changing, so Derek sat in the chair, hoping Kate couldn't walk to the room.

He knew she was here, he knew she'd been in the car accident and everything, but he hadn't expected to see her. It shocked him. It scared him, too. She looked so frail and pitiful and he just wanted to wrap his arms around her and make it all better. And it was all his fault. If he'd just been at Peter's like he was supposed to be, she wouldn't have been driving and wouldn't have crashed.

"FUCK!" Stiles screamed, jumping about three feet in the air when he came out of the bathroom. "Don't do that!" he signed, hitting Derek's shoulder. Derek couldn't help but laugh. He used to love pulling pranks like that on Jake and Tony and Laura.

"Sorry."

"What's going on?" John burst into the room, one arm through his coat. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Derek just scared the shit out of me."

"Derek," John said, frowning slightly. "Why did you run off like that out there?" He wasn't signing, which seemed to piss Stiles off; he stomped the floor and made a disgruntled noise. John held up a finger.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to see him." Stiles kept stomping but Derek didn't want him to know Kate was out there.

"Was it that woman? Was that…your ex?" Derek nodded. "Fuck. Well, come on. Let's go home." The three of them left; Kate was no longer in the waiting room, thank God. Derek grabbed his Coke and the candy as they passed it.

"What were you talking about back there?" Stiles signed when they got in the car.

"Just…nothing."

"Don't do that, Derek. I fucking hate that."

Derek ran a hand through his hair. "Kate was there. I saw her."

Stiles gasped. "Kate? She saw…what happened?"

Derek shrugged. "Nothing. I saw her, she saw me, I ran to your room. When we left, she was gone."

"Are you gonna go back?" Derek shook his head. "Do you want to?"

Derek thought for a second. Did he want to go back? Did he want to see Kate? He wanted closure, he wanted to see his family, he wanted them to be his family again, but did he want to see Kate? What good would come of that? The answer was, absolutely none.

"No," Derek signed, knowing as he did that he would go back. "I don't."

* * *

Derek couldn't get out of the house without Stiles until after Christmas. Stiles had to meet with a doctor because he had a really bad headache for a couple days. John took him in his cop car, so the SUV was free for Derek to drive. He pretended he needed to get something from Peter's house. Derek felt awful for leaving, but he needed to see Kate. He stopped by the florist first to get some flowers for her, and then he drove to the hospital. It was a different receptionist than the other day, so Derek didn't have to worry about being recognized.

"Hey, can you tell me the room of Kate Argent?" he asked pleasantly, hoping the receptionist couldn't hear his heart pounding.

"Are you family?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm her cousin. I was on a mission trip in Africa and only just got back."

The receptionist eyed him. "You don't look much like her."

"I was adopted."

That's it, the whole thing was done, he'd never get to see her unless he looked in every room individually—

"Okay. She's in 415. Take the elevator right there to the fourth floor and take a right."

"Thank you," Derek said, moving to the elevator and pressing the up button. He'd made it past the first layer of security. Now he had to make sure she was alone.

There was no one waiting near her room, but he stood outside and listened for a second just to be safe. Her room was silent. Taking a deep breath, Derek slowly opened the door.

Kate was sitting on her bed, reading a book and eating lunch. No one else was in the room. She still looked so broken and frail. When the door closed, she looked up and gasped slightly.

"Don't call for someone," Derek said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just here to see you."

She glanced from the flowers to the door and back to Derek's face before nodding curtly. Derek saw an empty vase on the window and put the flowers in there before sitting in a chair a few feet from her bed.

"How are you?" he asked. He didn't want to look in her face; it was too pitiful.

"I'm okay." God, her voice was awful. It sounded like she hadn't spoken in weeks. "I had a car accident."

"I heard. I'm sorry about the baby."

She nodded but didn't respond. They sat in silence for about five minutes.

"Why the hell are you here, Derek?" she asked suddenly.

Derek opened his mouth but nothing came out. Why was he here? To see her? Okay, yeah, that was why, but why did he want to see her? What did he have to gain? He was here with Stiles, with his boyfriend, and he was sneaking out to visit his ex. The ex that broke his heart and ruined his life. The ex that cheated on him and then left his brother. What was redeeming about this?

"I don't know," he finally admitted, looking down at his hands. "I just…I saw you the other day and I couldn't…I couldn't get you out of my head."

"Why were you even in the hospital to begin with?"

"My boyfriend got frostbite."

"Boyfriend." It wasn't a question, but Derek felt the need to nod. "You're gay."

"Yeah."

Kate frowned. "What about us, then?"

Derek shrugged. "I mean, I loved you then. I still do. But I love him now."

"You still love me?"

"Yeah. I mean…I don't want to be with you anymore, but yeah, I still love you."

"Why not? How can you…how can you love someone and not want them happy?"

"Kate, don't. I do want you happy. But I don't want to be with you. You broke my heart."

"Derek—"

"Kate, who are you talking—?" Someone had opened the door and barged in.

Derek jumped out of his chair. "Mom," he said, hands shaking.

Mom looked pretty much the same, just a few more gray hairs in the mess of black on her head. She was wearing a nice dress under an overcoat, carrying a plastic grocery bag and her old black purse. When she saw Derek, she stopped dead, dropping the bag on the floor. Various fruits rolled out, and there was a squelching sound as some sort of liquid container broke and spilled on the floor.

"Derek," she muttered, eyes wide open. "What are you…holy shit."

"Let me clean this up and then I'll go." Derek grabbed some paper towels from the bathroom and mopped up the juice, then gathered the fruits and running them under the faucet. That done, he went back to the main room. Mom was still standing rooted to the spot, apparently still shocked to her core.

"Don't leave," Kate said, pleaded really. "I want you to stay."

"I think you should go," Mom said, finally breaking out of her stupor. "You shouldn't be here."

No one moved. Derek didn't want to move because he wanted to stay, he wanted things to be okay with his family even though he knew it never would be. If he was just a bit shorter, with less facial hair, and if Kate was stronger, and if Mom was thinner, it could almost be like old times. But it wasn't old times. It was five years after old times. And nothing would be the same.

Derek's phone rang in his pocket suddenly. Silently cursing his luck, Derek pulled it out. It was John.

"Where the hell are you?" John said as a greeting.

"At the hospital."

"Why? You're not visiting Kate, are you?"

"I am."

John sighed. "Get your ass back here, okay? Stiles is freaking out."

Derek looked longingly at Kate and his mother but knew he couldn't stay. "Okay. On my way." He hung up. "I'm going now. It was nice to see you." That was a blatant lie. "Um…I hope you recover okay." He practically ran out of the room before either of them could stop him.

God, that was awful. That was not what Derek had expected. Admittedly, he didn't expect a tearful reunion complete with sappy music in the background, but whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. He hadn't even told his mom that he loved her. Why the fuck did nothing happen like he wanted it to?

Stiles was waiting on the front porch when he pulled up to the house. His arms were folded and he had a stern expression on his face.

"Hey," Derek signed when he got out of the car. "How's your head?"

"Dad won't tell me where you were."

Derek sighed, leading Stiles into the house. He dropped his coat on the couch, kicked off his shoes, and sat in John's armchair. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"Derek, where were you?" Stiles was sitting across from him, in his line of sight.

"Hospital."

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I went to see Kate."

Stiles froze; his face was unreadable. But then he lowered his eyes and nodded slowly.

"I thought so." He took a deep breath and looked back up. "I want you to know that…that I support you and love you and if you want to go talk to her—"

"Stiles, it's done. It's over. I'm not going back."

Stiles got up and hugged Derek tightly, just like he had when Derek told him about his family. Derek loved these hugs, when he could feel all of Stiles' upper body strength and their hearts were pounding together against their chests and they felt like one person. If Derek had to choose between sex and these hugs, he would choose hugs without a second thought. The sex was great, really great, but when he was holding Stiles in his arms like this, he felt…safe. Connected. Not alone.

* * *

On New Year's Eve, John let them have a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Stiles, who was only nineteen, had never had alcohol before.

"Tastes weird," he said, scrunching up his face when he took a sip.

"You'll grow to like it," Derek said. It was three hours to midnight. John was out patrolling, since it usually got really rowdy on New Year's Eve. They had the house to themselves, guaranteed, for the next four hours at least. He planned on utilizing that.

Stiles put the glass down after another sip. "Nope. Don't like it." He smirked at Derek. "You gonna come over here?"

Derek smiled, setting down his glass and crossing the room. He straddled Stiles and kissed him. His hands moved down Stiles' chest, then back up under his shirt. Fingers ghosting over his chest, tweaking his nipples. Stiles groaned and grasped at Derek's shoulders.

Derek broke the kiss and pulled off Stiles' shirt. Then he kissed Stiles' neck, nibbling over his pulse point, sucking on his Adam's apple. Stiles would moan quietly every few seconds. Derek kissed his shoulders, and his collarbone, and the little dip at the bottom of his neck. Then he got off the couch, knelt at Stiles' feet, and sucked on his nipples while undoing his jeans. Stiles lifted up so Derek could slide them off, then tapped his head.

"There's…something I want to do," he signed, blushing.

"What is it?"

Stiles blushed deeper, not making eye contact. "I want to…finish on your face and…" He let out a breath slowly, chuckling nervously. "I want to lick it off."

"Oh, fuck," Derek groaned, clenching his fists. "That's fine by me," he signed, dick throbbing at the thought. He worked Stiles' boxers off and stroked him a couple times before licking from base to tip. Stiles groaned loudly, throwing his head back. Derek ran his tongue under Stiles' foreskin for a few seconds before taking him in his mouth completely. He continued for a few minutes, pulling back every once in a while to let his jaw rest. The noises coming out of Stiles' mouth were delicious. Little grunts and groans permeated the air as Derek kept going down on him.

Suddenly, Stiles tapped the top of his head. "Really close," he signed.

Derek nodded, jerking him off quickly until Stiles shouted out and thrust upwards. Derek closed his eyes and felt each warm jet of come hit his face. Fuck, this was hot. This was the kind of thing that would send Derek over the edge when watching porn. After a few jets, he wrapped his lips around the tip of Stiles' cock and swallowed the rest of his load.

Stiles pushed him back and started licking his face, which made Derek groan even more. Stiles' warm tongue against his face was heavenly, and when he was done they kissed.

"How was that?" Derek signed, smiling.

"Almost made me come again," Stiles signed. "Now it's your turn."

He pushed Derek onto the floor and straddled him, wasting no time in stripping him down. He bit Derek's neck and trailed his teeth down Derek's chest. Fuck, how did Stiles know Derek liked biting? Derek had never told him. Stiles wrapped his lips around Derek's dick, sucking and rolling his tongue around and grazing with his teeth just enough to drive Derek crazy.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, Stiles," Derek moaned, arching into his mouth. Stiles couldn't hear him, obviously, so he just kept sucking. But then Derek heard a car pull into the driveway. He pushed Stiles off. "Someone's here," he signed, grabbing his clothes.

"Shit," Stiles signed, rushing around to get dressed. They were both still shirtless, and Stiles' jeans were barely on, when John walked in.

"Oh, Christ," he said, rubbing his temples. "Hello, boys. I hope you were being…safe."

"Of course, sir," Derek signed, blushing deeply.

John eyed Derek's hair. Oh, shit, some of Stiles' spunk was probably up there. "Impressive," John said.

"No, that's not…not mine."

"Dad, why are you home?" Stiles signed, his blush creeping down his neck. It was kind of adorable, actually.

"Your uncle came to the station."

"Fuck," Derek said. "Did he follow you?"

"Probably, but I thought I'd give you fair warning."

"I'll deal with him," Stiles signed, pulling on his shirt and moving towards the door.

Derek grabbed his arm. "No, you will not."

"Let go of me." Derek released his arm. "I'm going to help you."

"I don't need your help!"

"I want to, Derek!"

"It's my life and my uncle. It doesn't really matter what you want."

"Doesn't matter what I want? Is that what you said to Kate?"

"Stiles Stilinski!" John said loudly, forcefully turning Stiles to face him. "Go to your room, right now!"

Stiles stood, frozen in place. He seemed shocked at what he said.

"Don't you make me say that again," John signed threateningly.

Stiles nodded, walking up the stairs. John gave Derek a reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed his son to his bedroom. As soon as they were closed in, someone knocked on the front door. Derek got up to answer.

It was Peter.

"Don't close the door, Derek, just listen to me," he said, holding out a hand to stop the door from slamming in his face.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

"No." Derek stepped outside and closed the door, shivering in the cold. It was going to snow today, according to the weather report.

"Look," Peter said, hands in his pockets. "I know this isn't the best situation. But I don't want this family to fall apart."

"What family?" Derek spat. "We're connected by blood, but that's it. They don't want me, and I don't want them. It's easy." He sighed. "How did you find this place?"

"Followed the cop here. I figured he knew you." Peter sat on the bench on the porch. "Derek, I want you to come home."

"This is home now."

"Your dad's sick, I want you to go and make up—"

"I'm not going to grovel like some beggar!" Derek said loudly, towering over Peter. "If he doesn't want me to have money or anything, that's his problem. I can survive without him. I have since I was sixteen."

Peter was staring at him. Beyond the porch, it was starting to snow, big white flakes that floated down to earth. It was very peaceful.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Peter finally asked. A thin layer of snow was sticking on the ground.

"I don't have a choice."

Peter took a deep breath, stood up, and nodded. "I won't tell them where this is. I'm gonna miss you, Derek. But if you're happy here, then I'm happy."

Derek just stared at him. Peter had been the only family member who was consistently there for him, and even that backfired. Peter was now housing the family that disowned him. But he cared; obviously he did, still, after all that's happened. So he nodded, shook Peter's hand, and watched him get in his car and drive off. That was the last time Derek saw any of his family.

He didn't want to go inside, so he sat on the porch, watching the snow fall. A few tears fell down his face, but he never really started crying. There was nothing to cry about. He lost his family five years ago.

After about half an hour, the snow was a few inches deep and still falling. The front door opened; Stiles stepped outside.

"Hi," he signed.

"Hi."

"Who was at the door?"

"Peter."

"What happened?"

Derek shrugged. "I'm not seeing them anymore."

Stiles sat next to him, watching the snow fall for a few minutes. "What's it sound like?" he signed suddenly.

"What?"

"Snow. What does it sound like?"

Derek leaned back. What did snow sound like? Rain sounded like little pellets, hail sounded like bigger ones, but what about snow? It crunched, and it squished, and it sloshed. It sounded like children playing, like snowball fights and snow angels, like plastic shovels against the driveway. It sounded like the crackling of a fire and the slurping of hot cocoa. It sounded like the collective sigh of relief when school was cancelled. But most of all…

"Silence," Derek signed. "It sounds like silence."

Stiles frowned. "I don't understand."

Derek sighed. "It makes everything quiet. There's no footsteps and no tire sounds and nothing. It makes everything peaceful. When it snows, you can forget that there's anything wrong in the world. You forget wars and hunger and poverty and hate. It's all about the snow, and who you're with." He turned to Stiles, smiling slightly. "It kind of sounds like love."

Stiles smiled, eyes watering. He leaned in and kissed Derek sweetly, one hand stroking his face. When he pulled back, he was crying. "I love you," he said. Then he leaned back, wrapped Derek's arm around him, and nuzzled into his shoulder.

"I love you," Derek signed, making sure Stiles could see even at his odd angle.

They sat together, watching the snow fall. The only thing that signified the passage of time was the increasing amount of fireworks. Then, suddenly, there were shouts all up and down the street. It was the New Year now. Derek kissed the top of Stiles' head, inhaling his scent.

John forced them inside an hour after midnight. They went straight up to Stiles' room and fell asleep.


End file.
